


Desensitize

by Taimen



Category: Original Work
Genre: Catboys, Crying, Dehumanization, Gags, M/M, Master/Pet, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Spanking, Painplay, Purring Around a Cock, Slave Training, petting, shock collar, spanking bench
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-13 00:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taimen/pseuds/Taimen
Summary: Noel isn't really a person anymore, which means he needs to be taught what exactly heisnow. And it's going to take some time before he learns to be grateful to Dr. Larsen for teaching him, but—he'll get there. Eventually.
Relationships: Male Veterinarian/Catboy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 224
Collections: Naughty List 2019





	Desensitize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chicago_ruth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicago_ruth/gifts).

> Catboys, am I right?

"Here," Dr. Larsen said kindly, tugging on Noel's leash to guide him into the room, "do you know what this is?"

It was just another clinical room, same as anywhere else here: off-white tile and the vague smell of antiseptic, a few chairs in the corner, laminated sheets of pet care advice taped to the walls—but the middle of the room was different. There was an examination table there, but it didn't look like the plain, vinyl-covered things Noel had gotten used to these past few weeks. The shape was strange, it was lower to the ground... and there were straps all around it too, sturdy looking leather.

Noel shrunk down—ears flattening, tail pressing tight against his legs, trying to make himself small. He didn't _want_ to know what it was. He wanted to be allowed to walk on two legs again, and he wanted this awful gag out of his mouth, and he wanted his body to be normal.

But he also didn't want to hurt again, and Dr. Larsen was quick with the collar if Noel didn't behave. So he shook his head and offered up a muffled, "No sir," around the gag keeping his sore mouth stretched open.

"That's all right," he said, smiling down at Noel. He looked so kind, like he could be Noel's father, and he always spoke gently—but Noel couldn't forget how easy he found punishing him, and he couldn't _not_ notice the outline of his erection through his slacks. It scared him worse than the strange thing in the center of the room, even. He didn't like the reminder of what he was meant for now.

He hadn't wanted to be like this. He wasn't supposed to be...

"That's all right," Dr. Larsen said, and he reached a hand down to rub at Noel's new ears. 

Noel couldn't help pushing back into the touch, couldn't help the low purr that built deep in the back of his throat and spilled out without his mouth's permission. It was weird that he liked being touched that way, it was gross and strange and embarrassing, but whenever someone put a hand on those new parts of his body he was barely in control of himself. The pain and the fear melted away until all he wanted was more.

"Hmm," continued Dr. Larsen. He looked deep in thought, still playing with the tip of one of Noel's ears. "I could explain it to you, but... it might seem a little scary, so why don't I just show you? I think you'll get used to it easier that way."

His fingernails scratched at the spot where fur melted into skin. Noel nodded helplessly, and let guide him upwards.

The odd examination bench held him in something close to a crawling position: his body resting one the largest padded area, with little rests just below for each of his arms and legs. The slope of it left him staring down at the floor, his ass uncomfortably high up and his tail lashing against thin air. As soon as Dr. Larsen had him crouched there, he let go of Noel's ears—Noel whined at the loss—and began grabbing the leather straps. One around each of his arms and legs, one around his torso...

Noel started squirming again when Dr. Larsen wrapped one around his neck, forcing his head down against the bench, and as clearly as he could manage he said, "Doc-uhh?"

"Shush, now. You've been a good boy so far. Don't start acting up on me." Dr. Larsen patted his hip, and then slid his fingers under the waistband of Noel's shorts.

"Ah," Noel whined, trying uselessly to slip out of his grasp. The shorts weren't much—barely even boxers, just there to cover his cock—but they were _his_ and they were all he was allowed to wear and somehow it felt so much worse to be tied down and helpless and naked.

"I was talking to our shelter sponsors," he said, "and they pointed out that you've got a rough road ahead of you. Adult stray adoptions are harder to begin with, and black cats aren't exactly the most in demand..." He frowned when Noel made a noise of distress. "No, no, don't worry. It's my fault, not yours. It's my clinic fostering you, I'm the one who's responsible for making sure you've got the best chance to find a new home. And that's what all this"—he gestured at Noel, at the straps—"is about. One of the other fosters pointed out that you're behind on your socialization."

Noel's ears flicked back against his head, entirely on instinct. He'd thought he was doing well; he was crawling when Dr. Larsen told him to crawl, eating and drinking out of bowls... he'd tried to do everything right. He didn't want to be thrown back onto the streets, like how he'd been after he first turned, or worse: dumped into the kind of place he'd seen on the news back when he was a person. Creatures like he was now used until they were physically broken, starved and cut up and beaten...

No. He needed Dr. Larsen to like him, and keep liking him.

"See," said Dr. Larsen. His hand curled around Noel's hip. "You're afraid of pain."

Noel blinked. Of _course_ he was. Who wanted to be hurt?

"You do what I say in order to avoid it." And there was no warning, he must be keeping the remote in his pocket, but there was a sudden stinging shock in his collar and Noel jumped and whined and thrashed in his bindings. Dr. Larsen gave an apologetic little wave of his hand as Noel choked back a sob behind the gag. "Which is... well, it's a problem, see? Because when we get you a permanent home, there's a _very_ good chance the person who adopts you is going to want to put you through your paces sometimes. And that's going to hurt. So long as you're associating pain with punishment, you're not going to be able to bond properly with your owner, and you know what happens to kitties who get returned too many times."

A shiver ran down Noel's spine.

"So," Dr. Larsen finished, as straightforward as if he was talking to a client. "From now on, pain's going to be something that happens to you occasionally, until your body can get used to it. We're try some different things, and you'll get into a routine about it soon enough... but today's going to be all about seeing where you're at." He bent down until he could look Noel in the eyes, and gave him a smile that didn't seem so comforting anymore. "So we're going to be testing out your limits are? It's going to be a lot, so you're not going to be too happy with me, but if we don't do this now I won't be able to help you."

His hand stopped just above the base of Noel's tail, then grabbed onto it firmly. He pulled it flat against his back, wrapping something odd and rubber-like around the tip. When he let go, Noel tried to flick whatever it was off, but his tail wouldn't move right anymore; the tip of it ached when he tried to pull it away. 

It took him a moment to understand, and when he did he _really_ understood. Dr. Larsen had clipped his tail to his collar.

Noel moaned, low and afraid, and tugged at the straps holding him in place. He realized what this was now: his body tied down, his ass on display, his tail held out of the way. 

Dr. Larsen was going to hit him. A lot.

"There's a good boy," Dr. Larsen murmured, passing a hand across the scruff of his neck and then trailing down his back. "Make absolutely sure you count out loud for me, okay? We need a nice high number before you're allowed to stop, and these won't count unless you do."

Noel didn't get any more warning than that before Dr. Larsen's open palm cracked across his ass.

The gag in Noel's mouth was strange; there was some kind of tension in it, forcing his mouth open, and it hurt to close it and it hurt even worse to close and open it again the way he needed to in order to speak. The first _smack_ had him scrambling forward into his bonds, hands clenching and unclenching, desperate for an escape he knew wouldn't come. It wasn't so bad, it stung, but he could handle it, and he needed to say—

The second strike landed before he could speak, perfectly centered on the same skin as the first, and Noel _wailed_ around the gag.

On the third he managed to clamp down on the panic enough to force out a muffled, "Thee-uh," which was good, it was what Dr. Larsen wanted, but instead of a break from the pain all he got was Dr. Larsen's hand clamping on his collar and his voice growling in Noel's ear. "Bad kitty. Don't you know how to count?"

Another swat on his ass, this time closer to his thigh, and he didn't understand what Dr. Larsen _wanted_ anymore, and tears were welling up in his eyes as he choked out a barely comprehensible _four_—

Dr. Larsen grabbed his ass, twisted his fingers in the already-sore flesh there until Noel was sobbing and squirming. "Start. From. One."

"Ahh," groaned Noel, terrified and hurting and so pathetically grateful to finally understand, and when Dr. Larsen smacked his ass again he managed a, "Unn," around the gag.

It went on like that—Dr. Larsen marking up his thighs and his ass, alternating between hard and soft strikes whenever he felt like it—and Noel counting each muffled number out with a raw and aching mouth; he got to ten, then to twenty, and then even higher until Noel wasn't even really keeping track anymore. He'd lost count, he didn't know, he couldn't think, he was just moaning rough meaningless animal noises every time Dr. Larsen's hand came down and hoping it would count. Hoping Dr. Larsen would be pleased with him.

He didn't know what was worse, the pain in his skin or the pain in his mouth, and eventually he stopped caring. There was nothing he could do to make this end, after all; not a thing he could say or do to speed it up or make it hurt less or control any part at all. He was just something for Dr. Larsen to use. That was all. And when he stopped thinking about anything else but the pain, he could almost take it.

Finally, something different happened: Dr. Larsen paused from his rhythm, and instead roughly grabbed Noel's swollen ass and spread it apart. Noel breathed deep, swimming in a haze of confusion and pain—and then Dr. Larsen's fingers right came down right on his hole and he wailed and thrashed in his bindings and tried to choke out another useless noise.

That had still hurt. He'd thought he'd stopped caring, but that... that still hurt. He couldn't do that again.

But Dr. Larsen didn't make him. He let go of Noel's ass, and walked over to where his head was, and then he scratched at the base of his ears.

"What a good boy," he murmured, soft and kind and gentle again, and then he showed Noel the palm of his hand. Noel blinked and it swam in his vision. "You really got my hand stinging, you know that? And I bet you're much sorer, hah. I think that's enough for today, poor thing."

It was only then that Noel realized: he was done. Dr. Larsen had decided he'd done well, and he'd stopped, and now the pain was over. Noel had stopped crying somewhere around twenty, or maybe twenty-five, but now there were tears welling up in his eyes again.

"Poor thing. You were so good for me, okay? I'm proud of you." Dr. Larsen said. He wiped a tear out of one of Noel's eyes with the corner of his thumb. "You want that gag off?"

If Noel had nodded any harder, he would have sprained his neck.

Dr. Larsen's hands came up around the back of Noel's head, brushing against his ears as he fumbled with the straps, and then he pulled it back and—softly, carefully—slipped the gag out of Noel's mouth.

"_Ahh_," groaned Noel. His mouth hung loosely open, so used to being forced that way that just trying to close his mouth that shivers of pain radiating through his jaw. It was okay, though, the gag was gone and the agony was gone, and he'd earned it because he'd been good and made Dr. Larsen happy—

And then Dr. Larsen's hands were in his hair, holding him in place, and he was stepping closer to Noel until his body was all Noel could see, and then there was something sliding into Noel's mouth.

He balked, thinking it was another gag, but after a moment he could tell it was something different. Warm and soft, tasting vaguely of salt... Noel ran his tongue along the underside of it, and Dr. Larsen's grip tightened in his hair as he groaned.

_Oh,_ Noel thought. Dr. Larsen's cock.

Noel had never had a cock inside him before. He whined, uncertain, and squirmed a little bit when more of it pushed past Noel's lips and across his tongue. He'd thought fosters weren't supposed to do this. They'd told him it wasn't allowed.

But Dr. Larsen wanted it to happen, and he was in charge. And it wasn't like Noel could stop this from happening any more than he could've stopped Dr. Larsen from hitting him, so what choice did he have but to let this happen? He didn't want Dr. Larsen to decide he needed to put the gag back in.

It bumped against the back of his throat and then kept pushing further. Noel gagged; it felt like he was about to choke, like he wasn't going to be able to breathe anymore. There was so _much_ of it.

"Shh," Dr. Larsen said softly. He didn't slide it back out, just kept it right there at the entrance to Noel's throat. "Just keep your throat nice and slack and swallow around me, okay? It'll go in nice and easy if you don't panic."

It was hard not to. Noel's heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. His head was swimming again. But he kept mouth open, and begged himself not to gag, and after a few more tries Dr. Larsen managed to push his cock past the opening of Noel's throat and slide it in until Noel's nose was buried in Dr. Larsen's curls.

He couldn't breath through his mouth, so it had to be his nose. Everything smelled like Dr. Larsen, his sweat and the salt of his skin, and the only noises he could hear were Dr. Larsen's grunts as he used Noel's mouth how he wanted.

It wasn't so bad. His mouth ached, and he couldn't make himself stop shivering, but it wasn't so bad. Dr. Larsen wasn't hitting him anymore, at least. All he had to do was lay here and breathe and let it keep happening. 

And then one of Dr. Larsen's hands found his ears again, and it was—better. It made the pain feel more distant, and Dr. Larsen _really_ liked it when Noel purred around his cock. It wasn't long at all before he was pulling his cock back until the head was the only thing still in Noel's mouth and then coming across his tongue.

"Messy boy," he laughed when Noel let most of it dribble down his chin. Noel flushed, but—his mouth still hurt to close, and it tasted bad. "But it's okay. You look nice that way. And I won't mind teaching you how to swallow. Isn't that nice of me?"

Noel nodded as much as the strap around his neck would let him.

"Good. I'm proud of you. You did well today."

"Tha' you," Noel slurred.

He could have cried again out of sheer gratitude when Dr. Larsen undid the straps and let him crawl back down to the floor. He could barely move, even with Dr. Larsen using shocks to urge him on, but eventually he got back to his cage, and held still long enough to be washed down and dried off and have cream rubbed against the marks on his sore ass before finally collapsing. 

And all this was going to happen again soon, whenever Dr. Larsen wanted it to, and he didn't have any say in that—

But right now it wasn't happening, and Dr. Larsen was pleased with him. So it was okay.

It was a while before he could fall asleep. When he did, he dreamed about the pain, about Dr. Larsen's hands on his ass and cock down his throat.


End file.
